


Thursday Night Fever

by Pollyanna



Category: Queer as Folk (UK), due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-12
Updated: 2001-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollyanna/pseuds/Pollyanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A DS/QAF(UK)  snippet for Erika because she was sick ... uh, that's poorly-sick not pervy-sick!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday Night Fever

Thursday Night Fever

by Pollyanna

~~~~

Ray was slightly concerned when Fraser arrived at the club in his  
usual plaid jacket, but when he shrugged out of it and hung it in the  
locker, Ray's concern changed into admiration which he quickly hid by  
frowning as Fraser turned round.

"Isn't this suitable, Ray?" Fraser asked as he saw the frown. "Mr.  
Bighorn assured me that I wouldn't look out of place wearing this."

This was a pair of tight, faded, black jeans which hung low on  
Fraser's hips even as they clasped them lovingly, and a sleeveless,  
grey marl t-shirt that just reached to the top of the jeans, so that  
every time Fraser moved a sliver of skin was revealed.

"No, it's fine, a real good outfit." Ray hastened to assure him, then  
his brow furrowed. "Mr. Bighorn?"

"One of my neighbours. Despite the name he's not of Native American  
extraction. I believe it's more in the nature of a ..." Fraser paused  
and then continued tentatively, "working name."

"Working, eh?"

"He's an actor. I would call it his stage name but most of his work  
has been in films."

"Let me guess, his first name is Will ..."

Fraser swiftly interrupted before Ray could finish. "... iam. William,  
known as Bill. He was most helpful when I explained I needed to go  
undercover in a gay bar. He kindly allowed me to try on several items  
from his wardrobe before deciding on this."

Ray nodded in understanding. "A real generous soul. You just seem to  
attract them, Fraser. Okay, let's report to Mr. Harrison, another  
generous soul."

Mr. Harrison, the club owner, was not renowned for his generosity,  
particularly when it came to cops. He would have preferred it if they  
never set foot in his club. But with three drugs-related deaths in the  
past month, all involving men who'd been dancing in the club, he had  
decided he preferred live cops to dead customers. In order to keep the  
operation low profile, Ray and Fraser were the only two operating  
inside the club to start with. Ray would be out on the dance floor,  
mingling, getting to know the regulars and checking out any strangers.  
Fraser would work behind the bar, where he would be able to use his  
powers of observation and listening to people to good effect. All  
three deaths had occurred at the weekend but they had started a day  
earlier to become familiar with the environment.

Jonah the bartender, an unflappable Australian with a dry sense of  
humour, was showing Fraser the layout of the bar and explaining the  
different types of drinks as the first customers began to drift in. As  
it became busier, Fraser started helping out and soon the two were  
acting as a well-oiled team. Thursday was a quiet evening compared to  
the frenetic pace of Friday or Saturday but there was still a good  
turnout. Ray worked his way through the crowd. 'Do you come here  
often?' might have been a crap pick-up line but it was a good way of  
identifying the natives. The initial work on the investigation had  
shown the men had been poisoned, suggesting the drugs were  
contaminated. Although local dealers might have got their hands on a  
bad batch it was more likely to have been introduced by a new source.  
So they were looking for anyone new on the scene.

A few hours later as Ray leant on the rail, sipping the soda and lime  
Fraser had served him with a flourish, he heard a voice a few feet  
away from him that certainly wasn't from Chicago. The voice had an  
English accent and a note of bored petulance. "Gay bars are the same  
boring crowd the whole world over." Another voice, more good-humoured,  
joined in with what, even to Ray's ears, appeared to be an  
excruciating Cockney accent.

"It's the same the whole world over  
It's the poor that get the blame;  
It's the rich that gets the pleasure,"

The first voice joined in so they finished the verse with a  
resounding,

"Isn't it a blooming shame?"

There was the chink of glasses being toasted and laughter.

"Here's to being rich!"

"Your money isn't going to last forever," the second voice had lost  
the Cockney accent but was still obviously English.

"That's okay, I'm going to sell your body when we run out."

"S'pose I should be flattered you think I could make something as a  
working boy."

"I was going to sell it for medical research."

"Ha, bloody ha!"

Ray turned to his right so he could see the pair. He was facing the  
shorter of the two, whose amiable face had probably given rise to many  
painful years of being referred to as cute. Their eyes met and Ray  
raised his glass in acknowledgement. "Hi, I'm Ray. I take it you're  
not from round these parts?"

The cute guy nodded in greeting. "I'm Vince and we're from Manchester.  
England, that is." He gestured to his companion who turned round to  
inspect Ray. "This is my mate Stuart."

Ray managed a 'Hi," to Stuart but he was pretty much speechless  
because Stuart was fucking gorgeous. Curly brown hair, devastating  
brown eyes and a mouth that was the last word in lust. That mouth  
quirked in a satisfied smile at Ray's reaction and that was when Ray  
realised the drawback with this carnal package, Stuart knew he was  
gorgeous and loved it. He suddenly found he was comparing him to  
Fraser, who was one of the most handsome men he knew but who seemed  
embarrassed by his looks rather than proud of them. Pulling his  
thoughts back to the job in hand he said, "Well I would ask one of you  
to dance, but I don't like to come between mates."

"Oh, we're very flexible in our relationship," Stuart said as he  
prowled towards Ray and took the drink from his hand, placing it and  
his own on a nearby table.

"Stuart," said Vince warningly.

"Don't be so narrow-minded, Vince. Travel is supposed to broaden the  
mind," Stuart said as he held out his hand to Ray and led him down to  
the dance floor, while beckoning Vince to follow them.

Ray looked back to see Vince cast his eyes up to the ceiling in  
frustrated resignation, then drop his drink on a table and join them.  
Stuart faced Ray and laid his hands on his shoulders while Vince stood  
behind Ray and settled his hands lightly on Ray's waist. They stood  
still for a moment then Stuart began to sway his hips in time with the  
music, and Ray could feel Vince moving through the touch at his waist.  
He bought his own hands up to Stuart's shoulders and started  
undulating slowly between them.

Vince breathed quietly into his ear, "Are you okay with this, Ray?"

"Oh yeah," replied Ray as he stared into the demon-happy eyes before him.

Vince pressed closed behind him so his groin was brushing against  
Ray's ass and his hands seemed to grow hotter where they touched him.

"You know it was an Earl who invented this?" said Stuart.

"This?" said Ray, confused.

"The sandwich." There was a muffled groan from Vince as he tried to  
hide his head in Ray's shoulder.

"Of course, the gentry were all fucking perverts." Stuart threw back  
his head in a laugh which showed his white throat off to perfection.  
His teeth were still gleaming as he dropped his head again and he  
began to run one hand down Ray's chest. "But I think the Earl  
preferred a little more meat in his sandwich."

His hand trailed lower and the heel of it began to push down on the  
hardness that he found, massaging it gently so Ray felt himself  
arching up as he tried to get more contact with the teasing caress. He  
began pushing back towards Vince and trying to pull Stuart towards  
him, even as the hands that touched him began to feel like brands  
against his skin. His eyes closed and he began to gasp as he tried to  
get more air from the heated atmosphere. Then suddenly there was no  
pressure on his erection and his eyes squinted open as he began to  
say, "What ...?"

"Unhand his manhood," said a familiar voice.

Ray's eyes snapped fully open to take in the sight of Fraser standing  
beside him, his hand firmly grasped around Stuart's wrist. Stuart  
seemed unfazed by the tight grasp and frankly appreciative of the man  
that had stopped him. Ray heard a muttered, 'Wow!' behind him which  
sent a small thrill of pride running through him even as he prepared  
to send Fraser packing.

"Manhood? Nobody talks about 'his manhood' any more, Fraser," he growled.

"Ah, perhaps I used the wrong terminology. I should have said 'my  
manhood'," replied Fraser with his usual equanimity.

"My?" squeaked Ray.

"My as in mine, belonging to me," continued Fraser calmly. "If you  
don't mind, gentlemen, I'll cut in now." Gently but firmly disengaging  
Ray he caught hold of him and tangoed him briskly across the floor.

"Ah, Fraser, this isn't a tango," muttered Ray.

"I know that, Ray. But it is the easiest way to steer someone through  
a crowd. Perhaps this is more suitable?" Fraser dropped his hands  
until they were resting on Ray's hips and moved smoothly to the tempo.

"I didn't think this would be your kind of music, Fraser."

Fraser cocked his head listening intently. "The beat is similar to  
that of some Inuit tribal melodies."

Ray commented dryly, "It's the Barbie Song by Aqua."

"An example of World Music, I believe."

Ray gave up trying to disconcert Fraser and baldly stated, "We're  
supposed to be working. I was trying to find out some more about that pair."

"Ah yes, I've been trying to catch your eye for the past half-hour.  
Jonah spotted the dealers and they've been arrested. They were from Pittsburgh."

"Hah! I knew they were going to from out of town. Oh, so you were just  
making sure I didn't carry on with the undercover bit needlessly?"

Fraser hesitated, but his honesty was a fatal flaw. "I must admit to a  
twinge of jealousy when I saw how much you were enjoying his touch."

"Jealousy, Fraser? My as in mine, Fraser. Is there something you want  
to tell me?" asked Ray with a quirked eyebrow.

"Only if you want to hear it, Ray," replied Fraser quietly.

"Oh yeah, Fraser. I want to hear it." Fraser bent his head and  
whispered into Ray's ear then pulled back and planted a tender, almost  
chaste, kiss on Ray's lips.

"Gotta hand it to you, Fraser, you've sure got a way with words. But  
no more manhood. Okay? Or, at least, not in public. It's embarrassing."

Fraser smiled smugly. "Perhaps you'd like to extend my vocabulary,  
Ray? If not, I'm sure Mr. Bighorn would be willing."

"Only in a threesome," said Ray sternly.

"Understood, Ray."

Ray looked up and saw Stuart looking at him over Vince's shoulder.  
Stuart's tongue ran over his lips in an unabashed invitation. There  
was some hasty manoeuvring and then Vince was looking in their  
direction and mouthing, 'Sorry'. He was particularly adorable when apologetic.

Ray looked innocently at his partner and said, "I know it's a little  
early in our relationship, Fraser, but what's your opinion on foursomes?"

 

THE END

 


End file.
